


one stack of pancakes and two steaming mugs

by katierosefun



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Breakfast, F/M, More awkward cooking Strand, So it is mostly fluff, fluff and angst but only a tiny little bit of angst for the sake of plot, sleeping over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: [Set in 3x01] Alex and Strand clearly stayed together while reviewing the black tapes. Pancakes and tea were involved. And tiny victories were won.





	one stack of pancakes and two steaming mugs

Alex woke up hearing rain and smelling pancakes.

Which was odd. Not the rain part—that was common for Seattle—but the pancakes part. Even when she was a little kid, her mom never made her pancakes in the morning. (Her mom was more of a waffles person, anyways.)

Only that didn’t register to Alex right away. Instead, she stayed in bed for a little while longer, staring dazedly up at the ceiling in an unusual state of warmth and…safety. When had she last felt this comfortable? Actually, when was the last time she had actually _slept_ this much?

A lazy smile stretched across Alex’s lips. She closed her eyes, nestling deeper into the blankets—and that was when she realized that the blankets weren’t _hers_.

“ _What the_ —” Alex shot up in bed, now fully awake. She spun around, taking in the large room—the dark bedframe, the dresser, the curtains (which were slightly pulled open), the nightstand that were all _not hers._ Alex quickly looked down at herself, relieved to find that thankfully, she was wearing her own clothes.

_So then, where was she?_

Alex cautiously slid off the bed. She padded across the room and pulled the curtains a little further apart and peered down at a familiar driveway and familiar trees and—

_Oh._

She was at Strand’s house. Again. Two nights in a row.

Alex left the curtains open and turned back to survey the room. She hadn’t seen this bedroom before (was it Strand’s? Or was it a guestroom?)—but then again, she hadn’t ever really explored much of Strand’s house except for the living room and the foyer.

She was at Strand’s house.

Again.

Two nights in a row.

Well.

As if the floor was covered with landmines, Alex gingerly made her way out of the room. The smell of pancakes intensified—and right on cue, her stomach growled. Alex managed to find the stairs only after a few more seconds of wandering (taking note of the still-bare walls) and with the same cautious, quiet manner, Alex headed down.

“You’re awake.”

Alex turned to find Strand standing in the kitchen, his shirt slightly smudged with flour. Alex kept her eyes on that smudge as she replied, “Yeah. I was…?” She gestured up the stairs vaguely before letting her arm drop back to her side. She tried again. “What exactly was I…?”

“Work.” Strand answered. “We—you didn’t feel like going home right away after…”

_Black tapes. Endless black tapes._

Alex’s head was still fuzzy with the grainy videos of last night—filled with strange Satanic rituals, demonic math, and shadowy figures. How she had managed to get any sleep at all last night was a mystery to her. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“Ah.” Alex said shortly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Um…thanks. Or sorry. For crashing here.” She lifted her shoulders. “Take your pick.”

For a brief second, the corner of Strand’s lips twitched—and Alex almost thought he was going to smile, but then he gestured to the breakfast bar, where a plate of still-steaming pancakes was waiting. “Figured you should have breakfast before going back to the studio.”

“Oh.” Now it was Alex’s turn to smile. But instead of going directly to the breakfast bar, she slid into the kitchen, ignoring the bewildered look Strand gave her. “You only put out one plate,” Alex told him, opening the cupboards. “And you forgot coffee. Or tea, in your case.”

Strand made a small exasperated sound—a huff of breath—but Alex only said, “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect me to finish that whole stack by myself.” She tugged out some plates. “And besides, sharing is caring.”

She handed the plates to Strand. “Now set those aside and get some utensils. Tea’s in the second cupboard, right?” She didn’t wait for a response—she remembered where the tea and coffee (which Strand never drank, but he knew Alex did) were after relying on the Caffeine Cupboard during the last few weeks.

“So…how many tapes left?” Alex asked, standing on the tips of her toes to reach for the packets.

“Well…” Alex turned around to see Strand gesturing (with his spatula) at the large mounds of tapes sitting around the living room.

Alex’s heart sunk. “Right,” she sighed, giving the tea packets a small shake, as though that would somehow enhance its properties. “Breakfast and caffeine first.” She reached for a pair of mugs, filled them with hot water, and ripped open the packets with a familiar rhythm.

When Alex turned around, the pancakes were distributed onto two plates—and Strand looked so awkward, standing a little ways from the breakfast bar with his flour-smudged shirt and spatula that Alex smiled before she could help herself.

“What?” Strand asked.

“Nothing.” Alex responded, fighting to keep her smile from getting wider. She set down the mugs and walked around to seat herself on a stool. “It’s just—nice.” She picked up her fork and glanced over at Strand, who was still on his feet. “Don’t just stand there,” she said, gesturing to the stool beside her.

He sat down.

For the first few minutes, they ate in quiet silence.

“They’re good,” Alex said after a while, reaching for the syrup bottle. She ignored the way Strand raised his eyebrow at the mini pond of syrup already sitting on Alex’s plate. “I can’t remember the last time I had pancakes.”

“Clearly,” Strand said, nodding at the mini pond of syrup that had now grown into a mini lake. “I don’t think pancakes need that much syrup.”

“Leave me and my syrupy pancakes alone,” Alex replied loftily, cutting into her stack. “Like I said, it’s been a while since I last had pancakes. I’m gonna enjoy them the way I want.”

“Enjoy away,” Stand said, lifting his fork with some resignation.

“You bet I will.”

This time, Alex saw Strand smile—she didn’t remember the last time he actually smiled since coming back from his trip with Charlie. But he smiled now, a small one, but one nonetheless.

She considered that a victory.

- _fin-_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Richard Strand can totally make pancakes. I will fight you on this. 
> 
> Reviews and kudos are always appreciated! (Also, thank god season three is finally here. Tuesday, please come faster. But also don't, because that means we'll already be halfway through this season, dammit.)


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